


Accusing You of Stealing What I Gave Away for Free

by Laura



Category: Ocean's (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 10:03:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2808464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura/pseuds/Laura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny makes speeches. When that's not enough, he steals things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accusing You of Stealing What I Gave Away for Free

**Author's Note:**

  * For [killabeez](https://archiveofourown.org/users/killabeez/gifts).



It was Danny’s idea, stealing the bracelet.

“You like the girl,” he said. It was August, then, New Jersey sun already turning the sidewalk molten, Rusty too hot even in his baggy t-shirt and shorts. “Girls like jewellery. It’s basic math.”

Rusty did like her — Olivia Parsons, who sat in front of him in chemistry class, and made him a little bit crazy with patches of smooth, tanned skin. And she was sweet, and funny, and threw better spitballs than anyone Rusty knew. If she wasn’t one of the cool girls, it was because she didn’t want to be. She was cool in a different way, a better way — like, Rusty thought, how Danny was cool. Like they’d both be cool whether people thought they were or not.

So, yeah, Rusty liked her. And he wanted to show up for her birthday with something nice, but — “Breaking that rule would be so stupid.”

Danny rolled his eyes, as if he wasn’t as scared of Saul as Rusty was. “You know what they say. You gotta break rules to take chances.”

Rusty didn’t know anyone who said that, but it sounded good — convincing, the way Danny was so good at. Rusty took a bite of his hotdog, chewed it thoughtful and slow.

“We steal the bracelet, we got more chance of getting caught,” he said. “We should steal the money and buy the bracelet.”

Danny’s face lit up at that, a grin that reached his eyes and showed all his teeth. “Little bit here, little bit there. No one ever has to know.” He slung an arm around Rusty, and Rusty didn’t shrug him off, even in the heat.

“The other rule stays,” he said, and Danny nodded. Rusty knew about struggling to get by, and he wasn’t gonna make it harder for anyone else. Saul hadn’t needed to tell him they didn’t target people who would miss what they took.

“We got five hours,” Danny said, still holding onto him. “We can’t do it in that time, we should confess to Saul anyway.”

Which was awesome, and very logical and fail-safe, except pick-pocking wasn’t actually as easy as the movies made it out — not when you wanted cash, not cards. And not when they were really just kids and not very good, even if neither of them would ever have admitted it. 

They were $40 short by the end of the day. Rusty was resigned; maybe even relieved. Somewhere during those hot, frustrating five hours, it had occurred to him that a thirteen-year-old giving a gift like that might raise questions he didn’t want to answer. And maybe that a girl like Olivia wasn’t going to be impressed by expensive jewellery anyway. Only he didn’t tell Danny any of that, so Danny stole the bracelet for him later — did it that night, while Rusty was safe in bed, not even sleeping because it was too warm. That’s what he was mad about, most of all. Danny was always gonna get caught on his own — or maybe not always, but way more likely. Even then, Rusty knew that.

Which, to be fair, wasn’t at all what Saul was mad about. By then he’d found the money; bribed or blackmailed or just sweet-talked the cop who’d found Danny into letting him go; and threatened both of them more than once with being thrown in the river.

“I had one rule,” he said, as if he didn’t have twenty or thirty. But they shuffled their feet, and didn’t ask what rule, and Danny said, “It was all my fault,” just as Rusty said, “I asked him to do it.”

Saul, for a split second, lost his glare, kind of floundered. “This is no life for kids,” he said, finally, and the glare was back, but there was something else — a smile lurking just below the surface, maybe, something hopeful. “I told your parents that when I took you in. When you’re old enough, I want you to be able to walk away from this. If you want to, you understand? Can’t do that if you go around stealing when you’re too young to do it right and are gonna get caught. That’s why I don’t want you doing that. It's not that hard to understand”

And it wasn't, but Rusty didn’t think he’d ever want what Saul was offering - he wanted a world of possibility, of being quicker and smarter than everyone else. But Danny was nodding, so he did, too. No lying to the people you need to trust was another rule, but there were lies and there were _lies_. Everyone knew that.

Saul sighed, and maybe he knew it too. “And if you’re gonna get caught for something, could it not be cubic zirconia? That’s just insulting to me.”

Rusty didn’t go to the party; he never got to impress Olivia; and he and Danny didn’t get to see each other until Christmas. good for them, Saul said, to learn to be with other people. Rusty didn’t learn a lot, except that he didn’t much like other people. Even then, explaining things was more effort than it should have been, nobody quite understanding him the way Danny did.

Danny sent him a note with the bracelet, years later — similar enough to the one back then for Rusty to know what it meant. Rusty was in a Manhattan apartment by that time, stitches all gone but still stiff. _Not my biggest fuck up,_ the note said, _but probably my first._

The bracelet was one Saul would approve of — diamonds and emeralds, elegant and classy were the one from all those years ago was all show and shine. Rusty could make another killing from it, if he wanted to.

He put it in the safe, and he waited.

***

The next note was attached with a gavel. _Stole this from the Supreme Court. Not sure how much you’d get for it, but it’s cool to have, right?_

Rusty laughed out loud at that, drinking his coffee while the snow came down outside. He texted Danny, then, because it wasn’t ever like he’d been all that mad to start with. _Don’t think you ever needed to feel bad about that one._

He’d announced it, drunk on tequila, one Thursday night. “Law school,” he said. “I’m gonna do that, Rusty.”

Rusty had kissed him, because this thing between them was still new, but Rusty had already figured out it was the best response when Danny was saying something stupid.

“You don’t think I’d be good at that?” Danny said, apparently having figured out the same thing. “I think I’d be very good at that.”

“You would,” Rusty said. “Talking bullshit for a living and convincing people it’s true. You were practically born for it. I just think stealing is probably more honest.”

Danny tipped Rusty back on the scratchy sofa, settled down on top of him, messy and uncoordinated, and so good when Danny touched him. And still, talking. “You’re concerned for my moral turpitude. That’s very gentlemanly of you.”

“Your immortal soul is all you take with you when you go,” Rusty said. “I learned that in school.” He hooked his ankles over Danny’s legs, held him as Danny got a hand into his jeans. “You’d be very good. Except for how you’d hate it.”

“That’s how I feel about this,” Danny said, and Rusty laughed against his skin, liked the way he could feel it rumble through both their bodies. “You love it,” he said, and Danny said, “Not it. You,” as sincerely as he’d ever meant anything.

Three months later, he went to Princeton, studied poli-sci and astrophysics and European history, and fuck knew what else. Rusty didn’t blame him. Danny was brilliant, all huge ideas and charm and brains to back it up. But he had to come to things in his own time — or maybe just had to feel like he had. Wasn’t falling into a life because his parents couldn’t look after him and Saul could, and had taught them to read card games while they were still learning how to actually _read_.

Rusty went to New York, learned about drafting and architectural plans from a contact of Saul’s; about security and alarm systems from another. Danny made it nearly a year before he showed up at Rusty’s door, in an expensive looking suit and not much else.

“Saul sent me here for an education,” he said. “Says I’ve got catching up to do.”

“Nothing new there.” Rusty stepped aside to let him in. Danny looked around the tiny space, really one big room turned into four, and grinned. “We can be in something better by next year.”

And Rusty kissed him, because he was already moving onto better: had a studio flat lined up, three times the space and four times the price. But they could still do better, and they did, that year and every year after that.

Even after Tess that was true, as if Danny had to prove marriage hadn’t changed him. Which of course it had. If you were in the game to prove something, you’d already lost. And that certainly explained Danny’s stint in prison. The gift for that fuck-up came four days after the first. A tiny replica of that goddamn mask. There wasn’t a note. There wasn’t really anything to be said about that particular episode.

The fucking moon rock sample, clearly marked and encased in some kind of marble sphere, said, _To possibilities. Better ones._

Because after Benedict, during marriage 2.0, he’d said they should give it up. Done all they had to achieve, made their money. And that was a sort of logic so reasonable, Rusty almost couldn’t believe the stupidity of it. As if that was ever why they’d done any of it.

He’d let Danny walk, couldn’t tell if he was more pissed about that, or by the certain knowledge he’d be back. He’d found Isobel, and they were great together. Probably because neither of them had believed it was going to be forever.

Nothing was. Rusty was sure of that. Only — well. He texted Rusty again. _This is all getting a bit ostentatious. And then, _I accept the goddamn apology.__

The fight wasn’t really a fight. Danny said, “This was never part of the plan. Not ever,” and that was so obvious it seemed redundant to say at all, until even half asleep, Rusty got it: Danny saying this wasn’t for him again. 

“If you’re quitting again, make it for good this time. I’m still not completely over not being dead, so I’m not waiting again.” 

“That wasn’t—“ Danny said, and Rusty waved him off. Pain might have been making him cranky, but he’d earned it. He was pretty sure he had. 

“You have to choose this time,” he said. “I’m not fucking around.” 

A week later, the bracelet had shown up. And a week after that, Danny stood in front of him, hands shoved in his suit pockets, completely ruining the lines of it. 

“I would have accepted a speech,” Rusty said, stepping back to let him in. “A nice one, detailing all the ways you’ve been wrong in your life. Or maybe just praising me. I like that.” 

Danny grinned, even if the tightness around his shoulders didn’t ease completely. “I lie for a living. I wanted to prove it.” Then he blew out a breath, took his hands out of his pockets. “I stole this, too.” 

When he opened his right hand, a bullet lay on his palm, small and harmless looking. 

“Is that?” And Danny nodded. 

“You can have it if you want. I took it the night it happened. Been carrying it around.” He shrugged, self-conscious the way Danny never was. “I didn’t want out of the life. I wanted you out of it. You scared the shit out of me. I was never going anywhere. I’m done with that. Though I know I've said that before.” 

Rusty took the bullet, held it in his own hand. Clean shot, passed through him without doing any permanent damage. A setup gone wrong, working with people they knew not to trust. 

Rusty moved towards Danny, blocked him in against the door. “This is the life I want,” he said. “It always has been.” Only he remembered all those years ago, Danny casual blurting out that he loved him, and Rusty wondered if he’d ever said it back. He'd shown it, because he new how to do that. But the words were always Danny’s area, except Danny had proved him wrong. “But it’s not the life I love," he said, and there was nothing casual about it. Nothing surprising either, probably. Because Danny knew him like Rusty knew him. "It’s you.” 

Danny laughed, relaxed and open, finally. “That is such bullshit. You totally love it.” 

And that was true. But the other thing was, too. “Come here and shut up,” Rusty said, and Danny came over, but it wasn’t like miracles were Rusty’s thing; he was still talking even as Rusty kissed him, drew him in, and kept him there. 


End file.
